The Stars Burned Out A Long Time Ago
by A Silver Crown
Summary: AUish of TFIOS "Well this turned out to be rather awkward, can I ask you another question?" Newt nodded, dragging his plastic spoon around the rim of his pudding cup not feeling very hungry anymore. "Would you like to come to my house tomorrow and watch a movie with me?" Whoever knew it'd up like this? Well, that was a total lie. Newt knew it'd end like this…
1. Chapter 1

**I'll fix any errors tomorrow :)**

**reviews would be very appreciated!**

— A Silver Crown

Also, I've made an story/cover edit for this fanfic. Since I'm doing everything on the phone, the image size might differ to you all and if it looks terrible I am really sorry. Anywho, I hope you like it!

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><p>The church meeting room was as usual were frequented by a small amount of people who were either dying slowly and miserably of terminal cancer or had almost died of non-terminal cancer and loved to go on about the <em>agonizing<em> details of their fight for life. It was just depressing, but oddly enough Newt's mother had sent—no, _forced_—him into going…because of his depression. Made zero fucking sense but after looking into his mother's teary brown eyes and age lined face, he agreed into going. The meetings were a waste of time, his time which was severely ticking away by each painful second of Ashton's droning survival of tongue cancer because he was stupid enough to try spit tobacco.

So here he was again. Sticking stiff backed into a plastic orange elementary chair for third graders on a Friday night being constantly reminded of his impending doom instead of partying his ass off somewhere at a party at Minho's.

_What fun, what death_. Newt smiled inwardly at himself_,_ it sounded something like Minho would say at this moment.

But to his disappointment he was surrounded by twelve and thirteen year olds that have yet to develop a sense of humor, only a handful of fifteen years old and one other seventeen year old by the name Brenda were actually quite funny. She was loud, haughty, and spoke her mind—chiming in sardonically at supposed sympathetic moments. Newt often guess she had none left to give out. Newt also liked her but rarely spoke to the brunette.

So Newt slumped further into his seat when nearly tongue-less Ashton stood up for sharing time, clearing his throat awkwardly and grinning at everyone with his pizza acne ridden face.

Just as Ashton's colorless, flat lips began to move the door to the church meeting room was thrown open, sending church fliers and cancer pamphlets around the room in a flurry of days old dust. A tall figure—Newt estimated that they were nearly the same height—stood in the doorway, looking sheepishly at everyone in the room. He gave a half hearted wave and entered, the room's only lamp bathing the stranger in a bright light.

Brown hair curled over a slightly tanned forehead and bright amber eyes were radiated a thousand times brighter by the lamp's light and… it left Newt feeling utterly _breathless_.

The stranger was leanly muscled, perhaps a swimmer or a runner, moles doting underneath those gorgeous eyes and creating a pathway to his neck and under the gray collar of his shirt. Newt wasn't ashamed to admit that he wanted to discover where those beauty marks ended. Feeling his face growing hot, Newt averted his gaze elsewhere, knowing personally that he didn't like the feeling of eyes on him.

"Um—I apologize, but I don't think I know your name?" Pastor Meeks looked confused at the sudden arrival, he stood up, clutching his disgusting snot green bible to his chest and extended a sweaty palm to the gorgeous boy in an act of welcome.

The boy took it and Newt wondered briefly if he would wash his hands later.

"Sorry, I know I'm late but I was invited by my friend Brenda. Might've gotten lost on the way here and all." the teen stuttered, his eyes roaming across the tiny room and landing on Brenda.

"Oh! A guest or...?"

"The parents want me to become a regular ole member—so praise Jesus and all that jazz. May he heal me."

Newt released a breathy huff of a laugh, watching as Pastor Meeks turned a dark red color with rage and as everyone else snickered in amusement. Pastor Meeks was very sensitive about religious jokes...

"What is your name?" Pastor Meeks asked in a suppressed rage.

"My parents have christened me Thomas Fellows."

"Well, Mr. Fellows," the pastor glanced around the room, his muddy brown eyes falling on Newt. "How about you take a seat near Mr. Smith over there? And take mind to arrive at a better time, our meeting is almost up and…"

Pastor Meeks wasn't even finished talking when Thomas walked off, plopping down into the small elementary school chair beside Newt, he gave Newt a very bright smile before turning over in his seat to talk to Brenda. _Well_, Newt thought with a sad sigh, _there goes my chance_.

So Newt was once again doomed to another night of Sunshine Baptist Church's cancer meet up along with the other chemically stunted and awkward teens, so Newt brushed back his bangs off his forehead and tried to get comfortable in his seat. Ashton continued on where he left off.

—

Half an hour later and Newt was standing impatiently in line for snacks in the church's lunch room. He felt sluggish and tired after listening to the dull voice of Ashton going on and on and _on_ about his messed up tongue. He didn't understand why the guy needed to express his gratitude by continually telling others of his almost demise.

_It was just a play on for sympathy…_

"What's a play on for sympathy?"

Newt jerked to the left, were the voice came from, coming face to face with the beautiful boy in his church group.

Thomas was smiling, standing side by side with Brenda. Newt noticed that their hands were intertwined. It made his heart twinge.

"I—I'm sorry?" Newt asked momentarily confused from being in so close proximity with Thomas.

Thomas laughed and Newt swore the asshole did it on purpose to make him heart pound and his pulse to quicken.

"I asked what's a play on for sympathy? You were mumbling to yourself, real lost in thought."

Newt flushed, fidgeting in line as Thomas and Brenda stared at him.

"Ashton's sob story," he bit out in annoyed tone.

Thomas's eyebrows nearly shot up to his hair line.

Brenda took it upon herself to fill Thomas in.

"Ashton's been re-telling his survival story since the first day of the meetings. It's a drawn out sob story and it making me want to take a bottle of lemon juice and pour it out on his pimply face. Have you seen him pop them? I nearly threw up last week."

Newt frowned, thoroughly disgusted.

"Oh, I get you."

Newt moved up in the line as Thomas and Brenda continued to talk to each other, their topics of conversations varying from humorous to downright disturbing. Newt was positive he hadn't heard a word dirtier than the ones flowing out of Thomas's mouth. But he wasn't necessarily not use to it, being best friends with Minho came with some unpleasantries.

Newt finally arrived at the wooden mahogany serving table, his hands hovering between the chocolate and vanilla pudding cups. His face was marked with unusual concentration, unable to pick which flavor he wanted most. After few moments of listening to others behind him give groans of annoyance and impatient-ness, he snatched up the vanilla cup, moving forward and receiving a cup of lukewarm soda from a disgruntled old woman.

Newt headed for a table in the back of the room, blanketed by an array of fake plants. He didn't usually sit with others during his time at Sunshine's meetings. He stuck to himself and decided not to get attach. Everyone here was dying or annoying.

As soon as he opened up his pudding cup's cover, another body plopped down beside him in the seat, their fingers tapping against the Formica table.

With his face flushing a bright red and his heart thumping a mile a minute, Newt dared to look up to see who it was.

Thomas was tapping his fingers in time to a hum, smiling bright at Newt.

"Um…"

Ugh, Newt wanted to shrivel up and die. Here he was, sitting next to total heartthrob and all that he could manage to say was 'um'.

"Don't think too hard," Thomas said softly, interrupting Newt's continuing strain of thoughts. The blond jerks his head up forward, eyes looking anywhere but at the person in front of him.

"But a little birdie told me you were ogling this…" Thomas glances down at his cupped hand, the chocolate pudding that Newt had decided against were up curled in his long fingers. Newt bet Brenda told him and he also wondered what it'd be like to have his fingers threaded with those long fingers. "I'd be more than happy to give it to you."

The _if_ hang silent in the air and it made Newt extremely nervous.

"If?" He squeaked out.

"If you tell me your name."

Newt almost laughed.

"T-that's all?"

"That's all."

Newt have Thomas a wary glance before snatching the food item out of Thomas's grip. Thomas chuckled before leaning in closer on the table, his lanky arms crossing over his chest.

"So what is it, Mr. Smith?"

"…it's Newt."

Thomas paused before smiling and opening his mouth.

"Is it—

"It's not short for a lizard, in fact newts are amphibious. My name has nothing to do with the creature."

Newt waited for usual laughter or playful teasing of his name, but nothing came. Not a single joke or quirk of a humorous smile.

"I was going to ask if it was short for Newton."

Newt was sure that with his whole face burning that his ears would be too.

"Y-yeah, it actually is."

Thomas looked genuinely concerned for him, worry in his eyes as he took in the sight of the other's redden and embarrassed appearance.

"Did I say something to upset you?"

Newt shook his head, swallowing dryly.

"N-no quite the opposite. No one's ever inferred or asked that before and... It's a nice change."

An awkward silence passed between them again.

"Well this turned out to be rather awkward, can I ask you another question?"

Newt nodded, dragging his plastic spoon around the rim of his pudding cup not feeling very hungry anymore.

"Would you like to come to my house tomorrow and watch a movie with me?"

—

Flopping onto his bed with his IPhone 4 in hand, Newt scrolled through Facebook, his heart fluttering when he saw a new friend request from Thomas.

As childish as it felt and looked, Newt clicked accept right away not caring the least if he didn't _completely_ know Thomas yet, but Newt surmised he knew enough.

Newt and Thomas had become closely acquainted through their unusual and awkward lunch/snack time.

Thomas was surprisingly easy to talk to.

_Easy to look at too._

Newt shook his head, trying to rid his head of those annoying thoughts.

Newt also found out and liked, that Thomas didn't start out with a diagnosis story but instead introduced himself as truly himself. It was nice, being normal again and having a nice, normal conversation.

Thomas was everything Newt wanted.

The other male seemed unafraid, not in a cocky way but…he was just something so real that Newt could cling to beside the sappy miracle stories and sympathetic tales of woe.

It actually gave Newt hope.

Newt's index finger seemed to linger over the Facebook app, the feeling to look over Thomas's profile was strong, but with great restraint he placed his phone face down on his dresser.

With a weary sigh Newt reached out to take the tall glass of water from his nightstand and cup his hand around the tiny blue pills beside it, looking down at them they almost looked regular. But they weren't, they were actually pretty heavy duty pain medication.

He tossed the pills back with a single swallow of water.

They kept the monsters away, no matter how bitter tasting they were.


	2. Chapter 2

**I wrote up everything after the day of posting the first chapter! I'm so eager to get things flowing! I hope you like it, once again reviews would help me a lot :)**

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><p>Newt woke up to the feeling like something had died in his mouth, something very <em>old<em> and _smelly_… And his radio alarm clock was blaring out Taylor Swift's newest hit. He wiped tiredly at his sleepy eyes before shucking the blankets off his warm body. He darted, shivering into his tiny bathroom and leaping into his scalding hot shower.

He had slept without any abnormal recurring dreams last night, but he had dreamt of nothing. Just _nothing_, a blank canvas devoid of any color. That's probably what he hated the most about the medication. The fact he couldn't dream and that he spent the vast majority of his days in a haze, feeling a bit like a zombie. But it was a small price to pay to stop the growth of a tumor in the left of his cerebral hemisphere.

But then again, if he didn't take the pills he'd usually be spitting and screaming like the little girl from the _Exorcist_ by now. His parents had once recorded a video of one his episodes and shown him it, needless to say he was very upset over it. During the said episode he had transformed into whole other person, raving like some lunatic, practically frothing at the mouth with inexplicable rage. The video wasn't even half way over before he was sobbing in his mother's warm and safe embrace. Later that day he saw the dvd in the trash can in the kitchen, broken in two. His parents didn't bring it up and neither did he.

Newt turned off the shower's warm spray, reaching out blindly for the towel, feeling his way against slick bathroom wall. Blinking water away from his eyes he stepped out, wrapping the burgundy towel around his waist. He re-entered his bedroom only to find his phone belting out a continuous chime that sounded very closely to Alicia Key's song Fallin'. Which Newt did not _have_, no sir.

Newt hurried across his room, mindful of his cluttered and dirtied floor, left hand plucking up his phone while the other held onto his dangerously low towel that was slipping down his hips.

He fumbled to answer his phone.

"Hello?"

Newt winced and held his phone away from his ear as Minho decided to deafen him.

"Mornin', blondie! I can't believe you're up so early, usually you're tired little tuckered ass is snoozing until three in the afternoon."

Newt glanced at his phone's clock. It read 8:30 pm. He himself was genuinely surprised, usually his medication made him severely sleepy and caused him to oversleep.

"Huh, I'm more surprised then you really. So what is it, Min?"

"Why would you assume I wanted anything?" Minho's tone was light and full of faux innocence. He wasn't fooling anyone.

"Well for bloody starters," Newt maneuvered his phone between his ear and bony shoulder, walking over to his dresser to retrieve some clothes to wear.

"You have a car because your parents are luxuriously rich, spoiling you, and you usually just come over…whenever. Without _calling_, because you have a key to my house. Which by the way is annoying."

Minho cackled over the line of the phone.

"Well, despite those things being true… I actually called because I am on my way over."

Newt frowned, looking through his notifications as he put Minho on speaker.

He sat down on his bed, shrugging on a pair of briefs and yanking on a pair of jeans. They were loose in the waist. He had lost more weight it would seem.

"Well thanks for telling me, but I could've had an engagement you know."

"Oh okay, I'll be sure to call the minister of Ireland and tell them your posh ass can't attend this week's asshole meeting."

Newt laughed, thumbing through his phone once again.

"I'm British you twa—what! I've completely forgotten! You can't come! I've gotta do stuff."

Newt moved in a rush now, digging through his dresser to find a suitable t-shirt to wear to Thomas's. He was thankful Thomas had sent that message on Facebook or he would've completely forgotten about the whole ordeal.

Minho's voice harden over the phone, his voice full of worry.

"Like _stuff_ as in cancer stuff?"

"N-no, nothing like that." Newt replied feebly, pulling on a orange t-shirt with the local logo of a grocery store. It smelled like fish. He yanked it off.

"Oh…well can you clarify what you mean by stuff? You scared me. Nearly crashed into some guy's SUV... He's swerving too, so I doubt he'd even believe it was my fault."

"Sorry," Newt apologized, "I just gotta get ready for this movie."

He winced, wishing he could swallow back down his words and make Minho forget everything that he had heard.

He heard Minho whoop on the other end of the line, his laughter increasing and the sound of car horn blaring. It was very likely it belonged to a Minho's own car.

"Soooo that _stuff_, bro, if you wanted to get laid just say it."

"I'm not getting laid, you arse. It's a date."

"Yeah, and when Leena Evers invited me on a date to the movies her chest was the screen. Totally normal."

Newt groaned.

"Really? Must you be so crude? And if you haven't noticed I'm not that.. Sexually advanced."

"Uh, yeah. And you should get advanced, cus sex is better than sliced bread." was Minho's reply. Newt wrinkled his nose, _wasn't anything better than sliced bread?_

"Anyway, we're getting off topic. So when's this person taking you to the movie's?"

"It's a guy, his name is Thomas and I am going to his house to watch a movie."

Newt waited for Minho's response but was greeted with startling silence and the screeching of tires.

"He's taking you to watch a movie—_at his house?_ On the first date?" Minho's tone of voice was dangerously calm.

_Great, just great. Way to screw up things Newton!_

"Er—yes?"

"I'm coming with you."

"W-What! You can't come!"

Minho ended the call, leaving Newt to stare at a blinking red phone screen.

Newt groaned and placed his phone down on his bed, deciding to venture into the deeper parts of his closet to find clean clothes.

—

Newt stood in front of his full length mirror in the bathroom and examined his clothes, wondering if he came off too flashy. After all, he was wearing the clothes that Minho had decided to so graciously buy. _Without asking him._ He was clad in black jeans that ended near his ankle, a long sleeved dark gray t-shirt with a creamy, knitted sweater thrown over it. He brushed his bangs off to the left, giving a weak smile to himself in the mirror. He groaned, smacking his forehead against the smooth surface.

He looked ridiculous in this get up. He looked malnourished with these deep, dark under eye circles. Don't even get him started on the bony joints of his thin body. He looks more like skeletal tree if anything. Newt padded into the living room, plopping down beside his father on the couch; his fingers tapping nervously against the upholstery.

His father, a tall burly man that even Newt knew he wouldn't be able to quite reach that height, glanced over at his only child. His brown eyes were marred by the sides of crow's feet, reminding Newt exactly how old his parents were. They were in their late forties, not due to waiting so long to have a child but to make one. His mother came from a long line of illnesses in her family, resulting in the birth defect of having only one ovary but after years of trying, they stopped.

You can imagine their surprise when she went into a check up only discover her early pregnancy.

He was their miracle as they often told them. His father was very _perceptive _and was able to tell something was wrong with Newt the minute he walked in. His eyes narrowed and hit pause on remote control, turning in his seat to face his son.

"Is there a particular reason you're more jittery than Miley Cryus on crack?"

"That's _molly_, Dad. Keep up with the times."

His dad snorted.

"Whatever, so are you going to tell me or not?"

Newt waited for a few moments or so before releasing a breath.

"Well, I'm kinda going on a date," His dad looked at him with wide eyes. "And I told Minho how Thomas wanted me to watch a movie at his house and well now Minho is forcing his way into going as well and, Dad, I'm terrified he'll embarrass me!"

His dad looked at him with such a calm expression that Newt was worried that his dad would be upset too.

"Well, he'll be protecting your virtue."

His dad was enveloped in a mountain of snorting laughs and Newt knew at that moment to never confide in his father _ever again._

His father patted him on back while he tried to control his laughter.

"I'm sorry—I don't mean to poke fun but it's just you never go on dates. It's probably a shock to your friend as well, Min's just being protective."

"Well I don't want to owe anyone, dad. I don't want to be responsible for their pain."

"And why would you be responsible?"

"It's just a matter of years before I die."

His father's face slackened, his wrinkles becoming more prominent as he looked sadly at his child.

Newt reached for his dad's hand.

"L-look I didn't mean it like that but…I am dying and Thomas, he looks so healthy. I'm pretty sure he'll just be one of those survivors in the Sunshine group."

His dad squeezed his hand, still looking thoroughly upset. The older man was about to reply when their home's doorbell rung shrilly. Newt all but catapulted himself off the couch, making a mad dash to the front door.

He yanked open the door only to be greeted by a grinning Minho.

"What time is Casanova getting here, Newtie?"

Newt really wanted to slam the door in his face.

—

Thomas was running late, regrettably so but he needed a driver to Newt's house in Fort Dale. That was a long ass drive away from here. His younger brother Chuck had demanded a necessity of items before driving him to Newt's house. And Chuck was taking fuc–freaking forever in Walmart, going the pace of old lady in a retirement home.

"_Jesus_, man! Can you hurry up and pick a candy bar or something?"

Chuck was standing in front of the candy aisle, posed with his hand on his chin and his other hand tucked under his armpit. Chuck released a weary sigh, waggling his index finger at Thomas.

"Patience, grasshopper."

"Patience my ass—you're doing this shit on purpose."

And there it was, the bright mischievous smile of Chuck's.

"Yeah, okay. I'm being an ass-clown."

"Ass-clown?" Thomas interrupted with a shake of his head. "Chuck, you suck at cussing."

"And you suck at driving."

Chuck stuck his tongue out at his older brother and picked up a Hershey bar, proceeding to walk to the self check out lane.

"Anyway, I'm just screwing with you, Thomas. We still have plenty of time to get there, it's just funny seeing you get all red and panicky. It must be a pretty important _date_…" Chuck says as he bags his items.

"Well," Thomas clicks his tongue in an amused way, his mind drifting to a certain blonde with doe brown eyes. "He's worth it, he goes by a weird nickname though—I can't say I blame him however, his first name is Newton. _Newton_, Chuck."

Chuck laughs, patting his brother on the back and directing them back outside to their SUV.

"That is pretty rough…God, what were his parents thinking?"

Thomas rolled his eyes before unlocking their car, handing the keys to his little brother.

"Just shut up and drive, Chuckles."

Chuck smiled before climbing in and revving the engine in the middle of a Walmart parking lot. Thomas swore his brother did everything to embarrass him on purpose.

—

"Are you sure this is right house? Cause I swear God if this is another mix-up, I'll leave your ass with the people here."

Chuck says as he pulls into the driveway of a small blue house, the house was considerably smaller than Thomas's own house but it suited the Smith family. From what Newt had said and what Thomas could infer, Newt was a only child. Perhaps his parents were just the type to be content with what they had?

"Nah, this is the house. Newt told me, baby blue house, white speckled shutters on Fort Dale drive."

Chuck sighed, unlocking the doors and giving Thomas a wary look.

"What? What's with the face?"

"You're not looking for fuck and dump…_are you_?"

"Chuck, what the hell—

"Promise me that you're not using this person for sexual gratification."

Thomas leaned back into his seat, eyes closed in annoyance.

"I promise you," Thomas breathed out slowly, trying to calm himself down.

"I wouldn't—I'm not that person anymore, Chuck. I genuinely like Newt, he's funny and cute and when he gets nervous he makes this scrunched up nose thing and—

Thomas pauses, looking back at Chuck. The younger boy is smiling brightly at him.

"What?"

"I know you're not the same person anymore, I just wanted to make sure an by the way you're talking…seems like this dude is gonna be in for the long run, huh?"

Thomas flushed brightly, flipping his brother the bird and slamming the car door as he leaves.

He does however begin to feel the pressure as he walks up the pathway to his date's home, his feet sliding uneasily over the gravel. Taking a a deep breath, he arrives at the front door, giving three quick knocks.

The door opens and Thomas smiles and then frowns, looking at the person that answered the door in confusion.

—

The doorbell rang fifteen minutes after Minho arrived and Newt couldn't do a thing to control the older Asian boy, they practically tackled each other over the right to answer the door; and with Newt's frail body it wasn't very hard to overpower the blond. Minho had shoved Newt into the direction of the kitchen when he opened the door with a false sickly sweet smile.

"Welcome to the Smiths' sex hotel, now how do you want Newt? Face down screaming into a pillow or calling you big papa?"

"MINHO!" came the roar of Newt's highly embarrassed and angry voice.

Newt quickly shoved Minho out of the doorway, looking up into the flustered face of Thomas. His breath caught in his throat at the mere sight of him but sad to say, Minho decided to butt in. _Again._

"Pleasure to meet you," Minho wiggles in between Thomas and Newt, extending a hand like respectable gentleman which is everything not Minho.

"Uh, pleasure to meet you too?" Thomas quips back, he gives a puzzling look to Newt who mouths_ I'm_ _sorry_ back to him.

"I know you and you don't know me," Minho is already out of the house, dragging Newt with him. "But my name is Minho Ming—don't _even_ think about making some kind of dumb asian joke—and if you even try to take advantage of my lil Newtie you'll be greeting wasabi forced into the the tip of your di—

Newt quickly throws his hands up, covering the ranting Minho's mouth, his entire face glowing red.

"I'm sorry but uh, this is his way of wanting to come along…"

Thomas blinks back owlishly

at Newt, feeling suddenly possessive and angry that this Asian boy would be trying to interrupt their, their, date. Thomas licked at his lips, trying to find a polite way to decline Minho's…offer. (?)

Once he could not find one—Minho's eyes were glaring the whole entire time at him—he allowed Minho to join them.

"So what car are you driving?" Newt asked trying to break through the smoldering atmosphere.

Thomas pointed out into driveway where Chuck had parked the SUV behind a flashy red corvette, it had drizzled during their brief encounter and now the car was a glossy black, steam puffing up from it's engine.

Thomas smiles at the look on Minho's face.

"Holy shit, you're the guy I almost crashed into."

Thomas laughed, "Don't worry about it."

He leads Newt by his hand to their car, wrenching open the back door for them both, sliding onto the pleather seating and barking at Chuck to turn the heat up.

"Not to be rude but who is that chubby child and why is he in the driver's seat?" Minho had wedged himself in between Newt and Thomas once again, leaning sideways into Newt's lap like he belonged there. Thomas wasn't jealous, cross his heart hope to die.

"Not to be rude," Chuck switched the car into reverse, pulling swiftly out into the driveway. "But this chubby child is fifteen, is the younger brother of Thomas and I'm driving because somebody couldn't pass their test. Cancer perk be damned."

Thomas flushed while Newt chuckled.

"I like them." Minho whispered to Newt and silently Newt agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! I've update once again and I'm really sorry I didn't hit my promised mark of 3k, but this shit is real hard and I want to thank my muse Kendall. (You know who you are.) And thanks for the reviews, no matter how small or little I really appreciate it. Also, because I am writing generally from my phone I have certain things I am not in access to, for example: line breaking. I'll be sure to properly edit this when I get my hands on a computer. **

**Enjoy!**

**—**

Minho decides to be the first one to break the crippling silence.

"So…_Thomas_, I've heard you've attended Newtie's Sunshine group. I want your opinion on the swirling depression that seems to collect there."

Newt hissed at Minho, pinching the teen on the arm for use of that ridiculously, silly nickname. Minho slapped away the blond's fingers, looking at Thomas for an answer.

"Well," Thomas fidgeted nervously in his seat, his eyes darting every once in awhile to Newt. "It isn't the greatest thing in the world when you're constantly reminded of your fate, I also think it's a little strange that those that have survived from cancer would hang around a dingy old church. Why wouldn't they be off somewhere celebrating with their loved ones besides complaining of what could've been? But in another way it helps I suppose."

Minho nodded as if he understood. Newt knew he was just being a prick.

"Why don't you leave Thomas alone, Minho? Can't you interrogate him at a later time?"

Minho hums, "How about no?"

Newt sighs, throwing his hands up in the air, muttering. "Why do I even try?"

The sight of Minho and Newt arguing makes Thomas smile, instantly reminded of his own relationship with Brenda; his best friend and ex-girlfriend. He wondered briefly if Minho and Newt had dated in the past. Envy and possessiveness curled inside his stomach, causing his hands to clench into fists. Thomas flashed a too bright smile at Minho, replying in an angered tone.

"Don't worry, Newt. He can interrogate me if he wants, I wouldn't except anything less from someone so _nosey_."

The atmosphere in the car becomes stifling, the radio becoming the only source of noise. Chuck coughs awkwardly from the front seat, but mostly everyone ignores him. Knowing it wouldn't matter anyway.

Minho smiles back at Thomas, eyes narrowing.

"Then you'll be happy to know if I hear you mistreating my Newt in any way, you'll find yourself on the very wrong side of me. I'm a nice person, I like everyone and everything, I like you Thomas, but if you so much as utter something foul to Newt or even glare at him… you'll find out what happens to those I don't like."

Thomas rolls his eyes over Minho's flaring dramatics, he turns to Newt, ignoring the silently seething asian boy for now.

"Thomas, I'm sorry about Minho."

"Hey!" comes the irritated voice of Newt's best friend.

"He's such an asshole but he's just being, well him! Please don't take any of his moronic comments to heart. Bloody hell, he's practically a big pupp—

Thomas bursts out laughing, his eyes tearing in the corners. His anger seemed to dissipate like that trickling water. As soon as it was there, it was gone in seconds.

"No, no," Thomas wipes at his eyes, "I get it. He's your friend, best friend. He's just doing what friends do, God, I bet Brenda would react the same way."

Minho decided to jump back into the conversation at that point.

"Wait, are you talking about Sunshine Brenda? Brunette? Curvy, _her hips don't lie_?"

"Yeah, _Brenda_ _Derona_…and I guess her hips are rather truthful."

Newt relaxes somewhat. _So Thomas and Brenda were just friends_.

"God, she's got a mouth on her. She turns me down every time when I come to the meeting thing."

"Yeah, she'll do that. She hasn't really dated after breaking up with me."

Minho then pulls away from the conversation, his face tight as he looks over at Newt, who is sitting very stiff backed in his seat. The blond is now avoiding everyone's eye sight. Chuck sighs from the front seat, muttering about Thomas.

"Fucking idiot."

Newt sniffles, jealousy pouring off him in waves. "Couldn't agree more."

And Thomas can't help but look confused, wondering what he had said or done.

—

So the rest of the ride was rode in terrible awkwardness and stifling silence. Minho spent most of the times mouthing _what's wrongs _and _are you okays_ to Newt, which the Brit vehemently ignored. His jaw was aching from clenching it so hard. It was ridiculous. Why should he be upset over a past love? From what Thomas had say they were nothing but friends anyway. And the lingering voice that whispered all his doubts made a reappearance, drawling in snide tone.

_"Shouldn't matter anyway, it's not like he's yours anyway. I mean why else would he invite you over to his house? To watch a movie? Puh-lease. You're nothing more than another notch on his bed post."_

He blinked back angry tears, trying to ignore the words as best as he could.

He startles at the touch of someone placing a delicate hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the dark corners of his mind.

"Newt? Are you okay?" Minho asked in a low voice so the others wouldn't hear. He took note of Newt's teary eyes. The blond laughed—it was so hollow sounding that it made Minho's sparse hairs on the back his neck stand up in fear—and wiped away at his eyes.

"Yeah, just a headache. Medication is probably not agreeing with me."

Minho knows better, he decides to save the conversation for later.

"Well let's get out of this beast of a car. We're here."

"Beast of a car?" Came the shrilly voice of Thomas's younger brother. "I'll have you know this car is a thousand times better than the piece of shi–

"Darlings you're back!"

A woman, fair skinned and slim had entered the driveway, her pink full mouth pulling into a wide and happy smile. Thomas looks a great deal like his mother. They were both fairly tall, had a light complexion and were both dotted with beauty marks that ran from underneath their eyes, running along their jawline and neck. His mother was beautiful and apparently Minho thought the same for he hissed in undertone.

"Well _hello_ Mrs. Fellows."

Newt rolled his eyes, pinching Minho once again. "Bloody pervert."

Thomas was the first to exit the car, clambering clumsily over the seats and sliding out. The tension from Newt seems to dissipate as he watched Thomas embrace his mother in a lovingly way. The brunet even dares to pick her up and twirl her around the soaked driveway. She smacks at her son, laughing brightly. Practically the same but of different genders. She finally seems to notice both Minho and Newt.

"Thomas, I thought you had a date? This looks more like a small party."

Thomas flushed a bit, itching at his cheek nervously.

"Well the date is still on—it's just well... Well…" Thomas trails off, apparently at a loss of words.

"Because my friend decide to butt his nosey self into private affairs," Newt says as he climbs out the SUV. "My friend was just being protective as I've never really gone a date before."

What happens next surprises almost all of them. Chuck doesn't seem all that surprised to be truthful. Thomas's mother practically throws herself at the blond, cooing, pulling at his cheeks and ruffling his hair. "Oh, Thomas! You were _right_—he has the cutest accent ever. Gah! You're adorable. And never had a date?" She gasps dramatically. "Oh, honey. You're absolutely gorgeous! I'm so glad my little baby snatched you up."

The statement alone sends Newt's heart back into a flutter, his face smooshed against Thomas's mother's chest.

"Mom!" Thomas exclaims. His cheeks were red.

"Okay, okay. Sorry—well, just make yourself at home boys and Thomas! Make sure and be a gentlemen." Mrs. Fellows is walking away now to her car, her heels clacking through rain puddles. She even hollers a good-bye through her rolled down window as she drives down the street.

Newt shakes himself out his reverie, looking over at Thomas.

"Where's your mum going?"

"She's gotta go pick up my sister Teresa from her boyfriend's house. He lives a good two hours away, so hopefully you'll never ever get to meet her. She's the real menace to society." Thomas says as he directs Newt through the front door of the house with Chuck and Minho following closely on their heels.

The house gave off a warm, friendly vibe.

The walls were a dark coffee color where as most of furniture were a light cream. Futons, love-seats, and over stuffed couches dominated the living room as they surrounded a flat screen TV imbedded in the wall. The kitchen was glossy with its stainless steel counters and appliances. Minho let out a low whistle, walking through the house as if he owned it. Prick Newt thought angrily.

"Well someone's job pays nicely."

"Yeah, mom's an artist," Chuck points over their heads at canvas painting. It was a family portrait. Three young smiling children, dark haired and toothy, a tall robust man with curly hair and willowy woman plastered to his side, stood in front a sparkling waterfall. Newt noticed the dark circles under young Thomas's eyes. He looked sickly; frail even.

"That picture was painted before I was diagnosed with cancer." His breath ghosts against the back of Newt's neck, warm and minty. It sends shivers up Newt's back.

Thomas leans over Newt's shoulder, arm reaching up to let his fingers graze against the painted Thomas's eyes. Newt swallows dryly. Thomas couldn't more than ten years old in that picture. That means Thomas had been battling for over seven years. That measure of time is startling to just about anyone in the field of cancer. You either almost died or did, not hang out as long as possible.

"If you don't mind me asking—

"I have three tumors, both cover entire hemisphere of my cerebrum. It's an on again and off again occurrence."

Newt feels as if all the air has left his lungs, have being the main reason. That meant he was still in remission and that Thomas has the same diagnosis as him. The only difference is that what has Thomas is even more severe. Doctors had told Newt he had a seventy-five percent chance of living up to his late thirties provided he took his medication. Newt licks at his dry lips, looking away from Thomas.

"This is depressing isn't it? Why don't we go watch that movie now, I think Chuck has already shown your friend the way to our movie basement."

"Movie basement?" Newt croaks out.

Thomas nods, "Dad and mom transformed the basement into the ultimate man cave—well hang out cave as Teresa is always thriving for gender equality—we've got this huge TV screen, a huge couch-bed thing that seats like seven people. Couple of game systems and all free wifi you can handle."

Thomas suddenly takes Newt's clammy hand in his, pulling him in the direction of the stairs leading downwards. The basement's light is hazy and soft, like that of cozy coffee shop. Chuck and Minho are in a deep conversation discussing video games, picking through a large see-through container packed with an endless array of movies, video games, and books. Minho looks over his shoulder at Newt, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at the appearance of Thomas and Newt's entwined hands. Newt quickly pulls his hand away, already missing the warmth and assurance it brought. He doesn't want to get attached.

"So have you picked a movie, yet?" Newt asked as he peered curiously around the room. There were several more paintings in this room than the living room. Mostly of what Newt supposed was Thomas's sister Teresa.

"Nope," Thomas admitted, the 'p' popping from his mouth. "I actually wanted you to choose, if I were choosing I'd probably pick something zombie and anime wise."

Newt hummed, walking over to the container of movies. His thumbed through the Disney selection and wondered if Thomas would think him childish for picking one. "How do you feel about a Disney Classic?" He asked. Thomas grinned, "As long as it's not Frozen." "That's not even a classic so, yes. I was actually thinking more along the lines of Mulan or Snow White."

"Just slide Mulan in and I'll get the popcorn popping."

—

Fifteen minutes later with a huge bowl of pop corn in between them, Newt and Thomas was deeply submerged into Mulan's familial problems. The blond was mostly surprised at the disappearance of his friend, but he was probably discovering the upper levels of the house or pestering Chuck; either way, Newt was thankful for the privacy with Thomas. And somewhere along the way Thomas was holding Newt's hand again, his long fingers overlapping the brit's and back of Newt's head and shoulders were cushioned against Thomas's chest.

"Are you enjoying the movie?" Thomas whispered, his other hand digging into large bowl of popcorn.

"Yes," Newt replied feeling extremely cozy and content.

"Be truthful—on a scale from 1 and 10 how lame is this date."

"No, Thomas, it's nice, _really_. I'm sitting next to this American hunk, watching one of my favorite movies, eating really good popcorn—honestly, where did your mum get this? It's heaven in my mouth." Newt says as he shoves a handful of buttery garlic popcorn into his mouth.

"So you think I'm a hunk?" Thomas asks, his cheeks reddening. He smirks at Newt.

And in turn the Brit blushes as well. God, all this blushing. They were practically some gay rom-com.

"Yes," Newt admits, licking his lips free of the garlicky popcorn's grease. His lips were shiny in the dark, light reflecting off of them from the movie's flashing screen light. Thomas moves suddenly and gently, hand brushing against Newt's cheek and thumbing over his lips. The brunet's eyes were blown wide with lust, his now darkened amber eyes focusing on his date's lips. Thomas leaned forward, their mouths just inches away from each other… when suddenly the lights in dark room increased greatly and the sound of a shrilly scream meets their ears.

"YOU TWO ARE JUST TOO CUTE."

Newt flushes and buries his face into his open palms after being caught almost kissing Thomas by the brunet's best friend and ex-girlfriend Brenda. His heart was jackhammering wildly in his chest.

"Brenda…" Thomas says in an exasperated sigh. She winks at the both of them. "Well don't let lil ole me barge in on your couple's time. I'll leave you be. Later, Tommo!" She leaves in a flourish, bounding up the stairs and dimming down the lights. Thomas looks over to his embarrassed date, stuck between laughing and cooing at the pathetic face Newt was making. The blond's ears were even red. "Sorry about that, but…if you like me, you should know that most of the people in my life are intrusive. Like almost zero privacy." It's a few minutes before Newt even responds.

"Well it's a good thing I've had so much practice with Minho."


	4. Chapter 4

**omg! I've just left you guys hanging :(! Sorry! Here's the new chappie, and sorry again that its short…**

* * *

><p>"I wonder what they're doing down there." Minho said aloud as he watched Chuck for the millionth time, get squashed by the Elite Four on his gameboy advance. Chuck, sighing, threw down his handheld device onto the living room couch, looking over to Minho with a look of <em>really<em>?

"What?" Minho asked.

"I know you and Thomas have your _alpha posturing _bullshit over Newt but seriously could you give it a break? This is like the seventh time you've _'wondered'_ that out loud."

Minho faked his surprise and covered his mouth, "I know—I'm such a caveman, Newt mine _argh_."

"I don't think cavemen said argh and nor did they have the intellect to to communicate like that."

Minho rolled his eyes, _seriously_, where did this kid learn his sass from? "Okay, okay. But the point is," Minho slumped further down into his seat, chin nearly level with his knees.

"I'm just…"

"Worried? Angry? Jealous?" Chuck listed off.

"No, maybe worried. If anything I'm scared for Newt. Thomas seems real nice, but he's a lot more different than others that are…well, you know, sick."

Chuck paused in his search for the tv's remote control.

"Different how? Different _good_ or _bad_?"

"Different good, maybe an in between. It's nice on one hand to see Newt getting so worked over this guy, he looks so much more alive now; but, I just don't know Thomas and his intentions." Chuck nodded, pushing away familia urge to defend his older brother no matter what. He dug underneath the last cushion, whooping with joy as he found the remote. "I understand, but Thomas hasn't done anything," _Yet,_ Chuck's mind whispered. "So don't worry, when he does do something stupid, kick his ass—hell, I'll even help."

Minho smiled, "Anyone ever tell you that you're pretty smart?"

—

Two movies, half a pound of popcorn, and nervous, sweaty hand holdings later, Newt and Thomas decided to venture back up to the upper levels of the house. And through terrible timing they were with Brenda. _Again_.

They had just entered the kitchen when they saw the brunette, sitting on the counter with a bag of Lays in her lap, steadily depleting Thomas's chip supply.

"Brenda, did you just come over to eat up all my stuff?" Thomas asked as he opened the refrigerator's door. Brenda smiled, kicking her legs over the counter, "Can't believe you think so little of me, Tommo! A little birdie told me you had a date and I just had to inspect, ya know? You and lil Newnew certainly make a cute couple."

Newt frowned, what was it with people giving him ridiculous nicknames? He looked down at his clothes. _Was it the clothes?_

Thomas sighed, but not without his lips quirking up into a small smile. He handed Newt a can of Mountain Dew, opening up his own to take a drink.

"So in other words, you're just plain _nosey_."

"Guilty." Brenda smiled. "Well, that's rather lovely in all," Newt took a tentative sip of his soda, "but I was wondering when I should go home, it's getting late."

The blond felt his face warm. He was not _jealous_. Not.

Thomas hummed, guzzling down all of his drink like a typical teenage boy before replying, "Probably in twenty minutes or so." Newt nodded, slipping out of the kitchen as Thomas and Brenda brought up a conversation, of all strange things, about ducks.

Newt padded softly down the hall way, following the sound of Minho's soft laughter. He turned to his right, entering the living room. Minho was sprawled out across the couch, head hanging upside down with his sneakers kicking wildly in the air. Chuck and Minho were playing Mario Kart…upside down. "What're you doing?"

Minho looked up, startled, his character crashing into a wall in the game. "Hey! Heard you and Thomas were skirting around the edges of third base down there." Minho said winking. Newt wasn't sure who he despised more at the moment: Brenda or Minho.

"We were not," his face flushed. "_Skirting around third base_—I don't even know what third base is!"

"Depends really," Chuck piped up, pausing their video game.

"Well, _Brenda_,"—he spat out the name venomously—"got her information wrong, we didn't even kiss."

Minho turned, wriggling back into an upright postion, his mouth curled into a devious smile. "Almost from what she said, cock blocking you guys already."

Newt groaned, sitting down on the couch with his face covered. He felt absolutely mortified. He felt Minho sit down beside him, mockingly patting the blond on his back.

"Don't worry, before the year's up I'm sure you'll get rid of that pesky virginity." Newt batted away the other's hand before frowning at him.

"Minho I just want to leave—don't you think I've been through enough embarrassment tonight?"

"What happened?" Chuck quipped curiously, his brows furrowed; he looked towards the direction of the kitchen. "Did Thomas do something bad? Cause I kinda swore to Minho I'd have to kick his ass if he did."

Newt shook his head, sighing exasperatedly and slumping over in his seat. "He—he didn't do anything per say, I just feel uncomfortable around Brenda." Newt saw out of the corner of his eye that Minho was grinning.

"Are you _jealous_, Newtie?" _Oh dear god there was that stupid name again_.

"Awwww, Newt, that's so adorable!"

"I am not," Newt said icily and slowly. "Jealous."

Chuck and Minho looked over at each other before sighing and shaking their heads.

"Newt has it bad, man."

"Sickeningly cute, wouldn't you agree?" Newt threw a couch pillow at the both of them.

—

Chuck left earlier to warm up the car, giving Newt and Thomas their private good-byes. "So," Thomas picked worryingly at a straying thread on his sweater, looking rather nervous and sad. "Do you want to do this again?"

Newt paused, thinking over his options carefully. Thomas was gorgeous, no doubt in denying it. The brunet was cute, funny, very lovable. Newt could seem himself dating the other, having ridiculously happy good times. But there was just the matter of Thomas's condition. His was far more progressed than anyone Newt had ever known. For years the blond knew one day he would hurt someone, he just didn't think of the possibility of someone doing it first.

"Yes, I'd love that." Newt breathed out.


End file.
